They Don't Do Normal Parties
by Werewolf of Fire
Summary: England's in trouble again. Warnings: genderbending, sexual references


**Disclaimer: **Simply put... All the characters and ideas canon to _Axis Powers Hetalia_ belong to Himaruya Hidekaz and I make no money off this. This was done because it's _fun_~.

_Warnings: _Sexual themes and genderbending. Other than that, all spelling/grammatical errors are my own. If you spot any, mention them and I will fix them.

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**They Don't do Normal Parties**

_Salve_, _Hallo_,

And how do you do?

I'm here to tell you a tale,

Of which, I assure you, is all true.

I'm sure that you know,

Of Hetalia and friends.

Of the incident with Russia and snow,

And how England's torment never ends.

I hope you are familiar,

With France and his habits.

Because some find them bizarre,

I warn you to stay out of his cabins.

But, crap and damn it,

I'm still talking jibberish!

I apologise for my tangent,

We shall get to the main dish.

Our story starts with a gathering,

One not unlike many before.

Australia found it flattering,

To be hosting what was in store.

Against their better judgement,

The nations headed for the south,

"Bring all your best liquor," they said,

"Anything that melts in your mouth!"

No one cared enough for a reason to ask,

As they gathered in the hall,

Everyone met their given task,

And the table threatened to fall.

They chattered together,

Jested and jived,

Until Belarus stuck a feather,

In Russia's hide.

We aren't sure,

Whether it was her idea of a joke,

But America, the cur,

Couldn't help but give it a good poke.

"It's just a feather," He said.

"Do you know what she can do with it?!"

Russia needed a bed.

America didn't know why he was having a fit.

As Ukraine calmed her brother down,

She met Estonia's gaze,

Her mouth set in a frown,

Hiding spots weren't abundant in this place.

"Belarus, please, behave yourself today,

"We don't want any drama,

"We don't want to be sent away."

Ah, if only Belarus had been the starter...

They forgot about the world's troubles,

As the clock chimed for tea,

Bearded nations rubbed at their stubbles,

With barely contained glee.

America was the first to dig in,

Before everyone sat down,

Admonished whilst England brandished a dull tin,

And Australia acted the clown.

The Italies were generous,

As they gave out pizza and pasta,

Their food was fabulous,

They couldn't have served everyone faster.

China's cuisine smelt great,

None of the nations could whine,

As more drinks met their fate,

France's especially seemed just fine.

The ham gave way to eager stabs,

Whilst other favourite dishes met their end.

They ribbed each other with playful jabs,

Confident they'd remain friends.

Of course, as is normal,

The jovial mood did not last,

When one joke seemed much too formal,

And the roomed hushed itself mighty fast.

"How dare you insult my tea!" He cried,

As England rose from his chair,

"When you can't go without your bloody wine!"

France just curled his hair.

"_L'Angleterre_, surely you jest,

"You can't live without your rum and gin.

"And what about the rest?

"I've seen that cabinent you keep them in."

Germany wasn't fast enough,

As England lunged and roared,

His brain felt like it was filled with fluff,

He fell before he soared.

America laughed and rolled off his chair,

Whilst China excused himself for a bit,

Russia pulled at Latvia's hair,

As Veneziano helped his friend sit.

On the carpet,

Amongst plastic wrap and crumbs,

France and England fought,

Scratching, biting and twisting each other's thumbs,

"Go for his eyebrows!" Seychelles yelled,

As she waved her fist passionately.

She'd be saved when England fell;

She wouldn't have to eat his wretched peas.

There is always a time when both Frenchman and Pom,

Decide it is time to finish each other for good.

You'd have asked which play they'd gotten the scene from,

Their roles were so well understood.

"Prepare yourself, you fuckin' sod,"

England would always spit.

"It is you who should be praying to God,

"I'll take you down with this next hit!"

It was England who had the last laugh,

As he whipped out his wand,

"Say goodbye, you bloody farce,"

He practically burst into song.

"BRITANNIA LASER," He bellowed as he beamed,

And a brilliant light burst from the star on a stick.

He cackled as the others screamed,

But it was too late; they all felt sick.

If there is one thing the world agrees on -

Other than that England cannot cook -

It's that wherever his magic came from,

His spells never go by the book.

That day didn't stray from the norm,

As the nations looked around.

Their clothes were either hanging from their forms,

Or were clinging to assets that shouldn't be shown.

Neither he, nor we, are very sure,

How England's magic worked.

All we know is that what we saw:

All the nations' genders were backward.

Those that were men,

Weren't broad or very tall,

Rather they were feminine,

Pretty faces and all.

The women nations,

Usually so few and so sweet,

They were now male rations,

Their shoes too small for their feet.

France was the first to recover

As he raised a hand to his chin.

His mouth gaped in horror,

"_Mon dieu_! This can't be happening!"

But alas, no matter how much he wished it weren't true,

France rubbed and rubbed, finding -

His beard was gone, vanished into the blue.

He could feel his temper rising...

"You did not plan for this to happen, da?"

Russia smiled as England shook.

"Bloody hell, it wasn't supposed to go so far."

That was all it took.

"Haven't you learnt from the past?"

"God damn it, England!

"You better be able to run fast!"

"Change us back, this is all I can stand!"

"I didn't mean to!" England cried,

As he found himself lifted from the ground,

A baritone giggle came from their side,

They turned towards the sound.

"This isn't so bad," Hungary stated,

As she peered under her shirt,

"Actually, I'm happy this has happened.

"Now I don't have to wear a skirt."

"Now, please Miss Hungary, don't get ideas!"

"Yeah, England's going to fix us soon!"

"But I like what's under here."

She wasn't the only one starting to drool.

"Dude, are you checking me out?"

Lithuania flushed and turned away.

America grinned like a lout,

Poking his breasts and watching them sway.

"You're so small now."

Japan flushed bright.

"What is going on here?!"

China gave them a fright.

"What does it look like, fool?"

"I leave for a few moments and look at what's happened!"

"Did you get hit too?"

Russia didn't look saddened.

China blushed and stood, feet together -

His back straight and stiff,

"I've looked like this forever!"

His angered gaze wouldn't shift.

England stepped back,

Held his pants up as he crept,

He took the chance to retreat and pack -

His things away before he fled.

He tip-toed and shuffled,

Hitting his toe on a chair,

His swearing muffled,

He was glad he didn't usually have long hair.

"Where do you think you're going?"

France stood with his hands on his hips,

His bright blonde locks flowing,

Even as he glowered and clipped,

"I'd hate to ruin your escape, i_mon cher/i _Arthur,"

France smirked, devious and deadly,

"But you aren't getting any further."

England lets out a whimpered, "Help me."

The world rolled their eyes,

As France's glimmered and gleamed,

His next few words met with tired, knowing sighs,

England was lucky, it seemed.

Alas, dear fans,

I am thrilled to report,

England's punisher was France

No one thought it would work.

He was sentenced to doing him,

- or her if you will -

Three times in succession,

Or until France had his fill.

"But how," I hear you wonder,

"Did they change back?"

England flailed and floundered,

So his fairies picked up the slack.

"England, what happened, what did you think?"

They asked him frantically the next day.

"We told you, you can't drink,

"Or your spells won't work the right way."

And so, dear fans,

Ends my long, silly story,

I hope your plans,

Weren't ruined by me.

I will leave you with one last message,

As a sign of good will,

Merry Christmas or whatever passage,

You share as you eat your fill.

Hooroo, all.

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**Woffy: **I... I don't know. I don't usually write poetry (you can see why), but, meh... Inspiration struck and look what we have.

Critique's welcome. OTL


End file.
